


I'm Born Again Every Time You Spend The Night

by tacotheshark



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Morning Sex, Valentine's Day, Whipped Cream Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacotheshark/pseuds/tacotheshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Valentine's Night of lingerie, whipped cream, and discovery. Every time feels to Mike like the first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Born Again Every Time You Spend The Night

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine's day did u know it's my half birthday because it is  
> who needs a valentine when you have an otp anyway
> 
> this turned out way longer than i expected it to oh well enjoy
> 
> title is from bruno mars' locked out of heaven because i am pleb
> 
> oh and if you want a visual on the panties, i found one, for reference, you know (NSFW!!!!) [here](https://xdress.com/product/view/Z755)

The conference room is dim, little rays of barely there light reflecting off the glass table; some of it comes peeking in through the blinds, some, bright blue and glowing, from the presentation reflected upon the wall, something with a lot of charts and numbers that Mike doesn’t quite pay attention to because he knows he’ll retain it regardless.

He glances at Harvey increasingly often, sitting beside him at the table of almighty-people-more-important-than-Mike. If Harvey isn’t paying attention he’s doing a good job of hiding it.

All Mike really wants is Harvey’s attention, right now at least.

The date at the bottom corner of the computer screen is projected onto the wall like everything else, it’s February 14th; Mike is fairly sure Harvey doesn’t genuinely care about Valentine’s Day, but Mike himself can be a little sentimental, a little cheesy—he knows this. Either way, he and Harvey have plans, for Harvey’s place after work, because any excuse to have some fun is a good excuse—not that they need one.

Mike shifts, slightly, in his seat; he isn’t quite uncomfortable but he’s starting to feel a little itchy in a way he can’t describe.

They don’t need an excuse because no excuse is better than _I want you, come over,_ but there’s something nice about the anticipation. There’s something nice, Mike thinks, about sitting next to Harvey Specter with the unignorable knowledge that that very man is going to be fucking him into the mattress in a matter of hours, something that no one else in the room during the conference would ever imagine (at least, not to Mike’s knowledge). And there’s something even better about having something beneath his belt that not even Harvey knows about.

He bought them with Harvey in mind—the red lacy panties he wears now and relishes in the feeling of. He bought them online, on a whim, because he didn’t want to suffer the awkwardness of going to a shop. They’re made of lace entirely, see-through in places and if Mike wasn’t wearing his suit pants everything would be visible, out there—the thought of that makes blood rush to his stomach, he can almost feel the shift under the rest of his clothes.

He thinks about how to everyone else he must look normal and professional—as professional as he usually looks, anyway—when under his suit he feels so incredibly dirty and sexy and _different_ in the best of ways.

It feels a little like a remnant of a past life, but not something Mike has ever known; maybe an extract of some life far, far away that Mike is only just delving into.

Either way, when the meeting ends and he gets up and shifts, pumping his thighs as he walks with Harvey back to his cubicle, all it feels is _good._

Mike finally ambushes Harvey in the men’s room after lunch, creeping up behind his boss at the sink and pressing an open mouthed kiss into Harvey’s neck. Harvey smells good, like he always does; he tastes good, and Mike could lap at his skin forever. Harvey bows his chin with a smirk and lays his hands over Mike’s arms, where they’re wrapped around his waist. “We’re at work,” he says, and Mike just presses his nose and mouth into the crook of Harvey’s neck.

“Just can’t wait for you to fuck me,” Mike mumbles, blinking coyly against Harvey’s neck, playing it up because he knows it shouldn’t be hard to get Harvey hot and bothered.

“Can you ever wait for me to fuck you?” Harvey meets Mike’s eyes in the mirror, his face smug, his hands resting atop Mike’s. “Yeah, I know, I’m irresistible, you’ll survive. Just don’t get me fired while you’re at it.”

He twists around, untangling Mike’s arms from his waist, wrapping his fingers around Mike’s wrists gently and looking up into Mike’s eyes earnestly, almost apologetically. “Jessica wouldn’t fire you,” Mike says, feigning a sort of serious intensity before a smirk curls up onto his lips.

Harvey scoffs. “For banging my associate in public?”

“But I’m more than that, aren’t I?” Mike says, cheekily, pulling in his own wrists as he leans forward to peck Harvey’s lips, capturing them gently before slipping away, gazing into Harvey’s eyes with a half-played half-genuine lust.

“Mike—” Harvey says, in that voice that says _you probably shouldn’t do this but I probably won’t tell you to stop,_ and Mike kisses him again. He twists his arm to capture Harvey’s wrist in his own hand and he isn’t met with much resistance. And he slips Harvey’s hand into his pants and, feeling Harvey gasp against his lips, he settles Harvey’s hand firmly against his lingerie-clad ass. “Is—is this…?” Harvey is intrigued, now, capturing the lace between his fingers and rolling the fabric between them. His lips brush against the side of Mike’s face as he speaks. “Oh my God, is this sheer?” Mike just grins, as Harvey moves his hand to the side of Mike’s thigh, twisting the side of the panties up with his index finger and stretching the fabric out from Mike’s pants to see. It shifts against Mike’s groin and he can’t help but rock a little into it. “Mike, Jesus.”

Harvey’s eyes are wide, shining and brown and filled with a million emotions that culminate in shock and appreciation, as he shakes his head and lets Mike’s underwear slip back into his pants, clearly fighting the urge to push Mike up against the wall right then, right there. The door hasn’t opened and the doorknob hasn’t jiggled at all; Mike hears no voices outside but he finally begins to grow nervous and, having already done what he set out to do, he presses a lingering kiss to Harvey’s cheek, and he slips out the door nonchalantly, adjusting his tie as he reenters the world of associates and paralegals and everyone else who doesn’t know he’s just made out with his boss, and he plans to do it again very soon.

Harvey’s eyes don’t leave Mike’s ass the rest of the day. It’s kind of amazing, Mike thinks, holding that kind of power over Harvey Specter and using it as he pleases.

He makes sure to stay in public during work just in spite because, even though he had no real intentions in the men’s room, Harvey was going to make him wait, and hell, Harvey deserves it. He bends over more than he has to, he sits on Harvey’s desk and leans forward over his spread legs. No one else is any the wiser.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t just as bothered as Harvey, if not more so. With every movement the sheer fabric shifts against his groin and being so close to Harvey doesn’t help. He’s eager but content enough, he thinks, throughout most of the day. He’s a little impatient but he’s fine, and the slow drag of the long day only makes the anticipation that much greater.

When Mike leaves work, he gives Harvey a quick peck on the cheek when he’s sure no one can see. “See you in thirty?”

“I should make you wait,” Harvey says, grinning, “for the shit you pulled today.”

“You don’t want to wait,” Mike says. It isn’t a question or an order, but a simple statement of an obvious truth.

“You’re damn right I don’t.”

Mike doesn’t shower when he gets home, because he knows Harvey prefers it that way. He fixes up his hair, though, so it looks like less of a mess, even though it never does look quite right. He isn’t nervous but something like it stirs in his gut as he stares into his own eyes in the mirror. Something like _Jesus fuck I’m about to have sex with Harvey Specter and I really should be used to that by now._ He laughs at nothing, sighs as he runs his fingers through his lightly spiked hair.

He catches a cab to Harvey’s place instead of biking because he doesn’t want to be too sweaty or exhausted, and on the way he picks up a small bouquet of roses from a street vendor. He isn’t sure why he does it; if anything, Harvey will laugh, because it truly is a bit absurd, and Mike will get to hear that laugh. That’s a good enough reason, he thinks.

When he gets to Harvey’s apartment, he rings the doorbell and he stands there, waiting, for at least three minutes, flowers clutched in both of his hands in front of him. When Harvey answers the door it’s clear he was there the whole time, but Mike doesn’t mind. Maybe he deserves it, just a little. Harvey’s dressed in everything but his jacket and vest, his tie still fastened perfectly around his neck. Mike is still fully dressed in his grey suit. “I brought you flowers,” Mike says.

And he’s right; Harvey does laugh. Harvey laughs, and he says, “Hope that isn’t all you brought me,” and he takes the flowers to set them on the kitchen counter before pulling Mike in for a long, sweet kiss. Harvey radiates with warmth, and Mike melts into the touch, his arms finding their way gradually around Harvey’s waist. Harvey slips his fingers into Mike’s pants on either side, and he says, listlessly, “Jesus, Mike, I can’t believe you came to work like this.

“Hey,” Mike mumbles, speaking against Harvey’s lips, “All for you.” He smiles and he hopes Harvey takes note of it against his mouth.

“Mm, I bet.” When Mike slips his tongue between Harvey’s lips he reciprocates, slipping his own mouth open and nibbling gently on Mike’s bottom lip. When Mike reaches up to pull at Harvey’s tie and the top buttons of his shirt, Harvey backs up against the nearest wall, pulling Mike with him, and he says, “Hey there rookie, we have all night.”

Mike puts on his best pained expression and he whines, “Are you gonna make me wait all night?” He’s only half faking it, at most.

Harvey just growls, “Fuck no,” and he flips their positions aggressively, pressing Mike up against the wall and devouring his mouth, absolutely and completely. Mike moans softly into the kiss; he scrambles to get his hands on Harvey’s waist, to get some kind of hold. He can make do without that though, he thinks, because Harvey’s hands are all over him, because he trusts Harvey with his body completely, because Harvey is now pulling him down the hall and into his bedroom, more than once on the way pulling Mike in to kiss against the wall. By the time Harvey has Mike pressed up against the inside wall of the bedroom his tie hangs loosely and undone from his collar, swaying slightly when he moves. “Wait here,” he says, a noticeable excitement riding the steady wavelength of his voice, as he steps away from Mike with a final kiss to Mike’s jaw. “I have a little surprise for you, too.” He smirks his arrogant yet enthralling smirk, and he disappears down the hall.

Alone, Mike sits on Harvey’s bed, stretching and cracking his spend jaw. His tie is gone, lost somewhere on the floor of the hallway, and he rolls his shoulders back, cracking his joints, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the ground. He sighs happily, leaning backward and propping himself up on his elbows, spreading his legs in front of him. He drums his fingers against the mattress, hums a tune internally as he waits for Harvey to come back. Harvey’s sheets are new, he can tell—cleaned recently, possibly, but bought recently, much more likely. A tiny grin creeps up onto his lips; Harvey actually bought sheets for him, for their little occasion, even though he knows Mike couldn’t care less about the quality or even cleanliness of his sheets.

When Harvey comes back through the doorway he still has that smirk on his lips along with something else in his hand—Mike stretches his neck just slightly to see what it is, choking on a half-chuckle half-gasp as he leans back again. “You’re not serious. What are we doing here, making sundaes?”

“I am serious,” Harvey says, tossing the can of whipped cream into the air and catching it again. “No, but I _can_ take you to Dairy Queen tomorrow if you’re gonna whine like a little kid—don’t say it, God, Mike.” He pauses for a moment at Mike’s little smirk, the little kid comment hanging in the air to be met with a joke Mike hadn’t quite come up with when Harvey shot him down. “You don’t really mind, though, do you?”

Mike shrugs; he just wants Harvey, he’s indifferent as to how, and with whatever weird-ass, overrated sugar kink. “I guess not.”

Harvey smiles. “Good.” And he tosses the dessert into the bed before climbing on top of Mike, capturing Mike’s face in his hands, straddling Mike’s hips as he slips his tongue into Mike’s mouth once again. His fingers are firm against Mike’s cheekbones and Mike does his best to shift backward to the pillows, laying his head down so that he can get his hands on Harvey. He trails them down Harvey’s back, feeling every shift of Harvey’s body in his palms, pressing into Harvey’s shirt, into the skin he wants so desperately to feel under his fingertips. As his lips slide against Harvey’s he shifts his body to get a better angle for unbuttoning what of Harvey’s shirt isn’t open already. He does it sloppily and poorly, paying minimal attention to concentrate on how occupied he is already with Harvey’s mouth, but Harvey gets the message, humming against Mike’s lips before he sits up to do it himself, slipping his shirt with his tie still attached to it off his shoulders and chucking it carelessly to the floor. He pulls off his t-shirt, next, rolling his shoulders back as he tosses it, too. “Well it’s not fair, is it,” he mumbles almost nonchalantly as he leans back down over Mike,” if I’m the only one unclothed.” He emphasizes the last word, letting it slip through his teeth with a small chuckle. Mike nods, breathlessly, and his hands rush up to unbutton his own shirt but Harvey shakes his head and replaces Mike’s fingertips with his own, taking his time as he undoes the buttons slowly and surely. Mike shifts under Harvey’s touch as he watches, placing his hands on Harvey’s hips where his smooth skin disappears under the waist of his pants. Harvey nips at Mike’s collarbone as he pushes the sides of Mike’s open shirt over his shoulders; he slides it off of Mike’s body and when he sits up to toss it to the side and work at Mike’s pants, Mike pulls his own undershirt over his head.

“You know,” he says, as he leans back down and Harvey pops the button of his pants, “I could just do that.”

Harvey just says, “Nope,” and Mike is a little taken aback. Nevertheless, he shrugs, and sinks back into Harvey’s pillows. “You’re gonna be a tease and take forever, and I just want you naked.” As he starts to pull Mike’s pants down over his thighs, he bends down to press a kiss to Mike’s lower belly. Mike shifts into the press of Harvey’s mouth, lifting his hips so that the garment can come off easier.

Harvey sits up again, and Mike was right—he can see everything. His hardening cock is beginning to press out against the fabric, his sac is heavy and obvious between his legs. Harvey gulps as he rakes his eyes over Mike’s body, pushing Mike’s thighs apart gently with one hand. He doesn’t say anything but he leans down again, to press a lewd, open mouthed kiss to the inside of Mike’s thigh as he pulls Mike’s pants the rest of the way off his body.

Mike is tingling with heat and arousal as Harvey climbs back on top of him, pupils dilated as he kisses Mike greedily, and whenever Harvey’s skin brushes against his something shifts inside him—something pressing, craving. He kisses Harvey eagerly, tipping his head back for an angle, sweeping his tongue across the inside of Harvey’s mouth and soon it has him just a little breathless. Harvey always knows how to fight back, and he may just be better at it with his mouth itself than with the words that come out of it.

When Harvey’s mouth comes away, gently as Harvey pinches Mike’s lips between his own and lets them slip away with the rest of him, Mike misses the feeling of his lips, of his tongue, but not enough to keep Harvey from doing whatever he’s about to do. Mike trusts him explicitly, after all.

Harvey trails kisses down Mike’s body and Mike arches up at each press and insistent suck of Harvey’s lips, at each brush of Harvey’s nose against his skin and every time Harvey blinks and Mike can feel his eyelashes flutter. Harvey’s mouth is at Mike’s lower stomach, now, still moving lower, running his tongue along the hem of Mike’s underwear. His chin brushes against Mike’s dick and through the see-through fabric the spark of his touch is amplified ten-fold.

He’s so close but not close enough, and Mike can’t help but press into the warm, enticing presence of Harvey, running his hand through Harvey’s hair as he dips his head down to watch Harvey mouth at him. He presses his open mouth and tongue against the press of Mike’s cock against the sheer fabric, which grows slowly heavier under Harvey’s touch. His lips nip at and catch on the lace, licking and kissing with all the concentration in the world, it seems; “God, look at you,” he mumbles, breath heavy against the dampening fabric and Mike’s growing arousal.

Mike cracks a flattered smile, and he says, “I’d rather look at you.”

Harvey moans, low in his throat, spreading Mike’s thighs with the stretch of his hand, licking gingerly along Mike’s balls. “Fuck,” he mutters, blinking, inhaling against Mike’s hardness. The head of Mike’s cock peeks through the lace—he can’t help but stare now, at his unraveling arousal, at Harvey’s absolutely enthralling mouth—dampening the fabric as Harvey tongues unabashedly at his slit.

The sight sends spikes through Mike of pleasure and pain and something he can’t indemnity, and as Harvey moves his head back up to mouth against Mike’s hipbones, he moans lightly and moves his hands to Harvey’s shoulders. Harvey climbs up his body slowly, indulgently, and Mike shifts into the pillows, melting under Harvey’s touch and the returning feeling of Harvey’s lips against his neck. Harvey straddles him, pants stretching between his thighs, half-hard cock making a slight bulge in them as he reaches over to retrieve the whipped cream.

As he plucks the can from its place, so far untouched in its own little space on the bed, and toys with the cap, he looks into Mike’s eyes in a way that Mike finds incredibly endearing and more than a little sexy. He’s smiling, deep brown eyes casting a sort of knowing, loving glow across his face, smug and concentrated as he uncaps the whipped cream, shakes it up, and holds it with one hand above Mike’s chest. His other hand rests flat against Mike’s stomach, fingertips pressing and bringing a comfortable sort of lightning to the surface of Mike’s skin.

Harvey raises his brow in a silent question, expectant; Mike nods, flicks his tongue out to dampen his lips, and tilts his head back to offer himself completely.

The cream is cold against Mike’s nipple as Harvey presses in the nozzle and sprays a tiny dollop atop the hardening bud. It feels foamy and light, strange but, Mike thinks, almost a little nice. At the same time it’s creamy and thick and Mike kind of wants to taste it. Harvey gazes down appreciatively and moves to Mike’s other nipple, to do the same.

Mike’s a little embarrassed, he has to admit, and a lot more than a little turned on. He tips his chin down and his eyes rake his own body reluctantly, cock pressing up needily into barely there scarlet lace, nipples topped with whipped cream like in a million of Mike’s teenage fantasies that featured just about anyone else but him; “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, grinning because he can’t help it, hoping dearly that the heat in his face isn’t manifesting in the wild blush it feels like.

Harvey just smirks, his smile reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “but it looks good on you.” He caps the whipped cream again and tosses it to the side, moving his hands to Mike’s hips, chuckling softly and dampening his lips. And then, he moves on top of Mike again, and Mike holds his breath in the anticipation he only ever gets from Harvey anymore.

Harvey splays one hand across Mike’s stomach, pressing the pads of his fingers firmly against the muscle of Mike’s torso, like he’s holding Mike down even though Mike wouldn’t think for a second of leaving. With nerves more sensitive than ever Mike can feel the firm press of Harvey’s palm, the dig of the bone beneath Harvey’s skin; Harvey’s hand isn’t cold, but it isn’t quite warm, and even after so long it feels foreign, still, in the best of ways. Even as a snarky asshole with a frightening superiority complex who can get a little sloppy in bed and anywhere else—Harvey never stopped seeming professional.

Harvey’s other hand he fits just beneath Mike’s underarm, right against the curve of bone, splayed across the most sensitive part of Mike’s side—fingertips pressing into his back, thumb edging along his pectoral. It stops Mike’s breath, sends his heartbeat echoing out into the room, ricocheting off Harvey, coming back into Mike’s chest with full force and it Harvey wasn’t holding him he’d probably be shaking with the force of it. From there Harvey leans down and bows his head, closing his mouth around a whipped cream covered nipple and Mike’s lips fall open, gasping a heavy but quiet, “Oh— _Jesus._ ” Harvey’s mouth is warm, open and wet against Mike’s chest, his thin lips brushing tantalizingly against Mike’s skin as he laps the topping into his mouth with his tongue. With half-lidded eyes Mike watches as Harvey layers his tongue over the roof of his mouth, gulps, and trails his hand up from Mike’s stomach through the scarce hair on his chest to the side of Mike’s neck and finally the back of his head. He comes up to press a brisk, almost chaste kiss to Mike’s parted lips. His mouth tastes warm and sweet, like cream and sugar and something different, like the dusting of cinnamon that tops a dessert. That little something on top of the whipped cream that makes it that much more special.

Mike lies back against the pillows as Harvey’s hand comes away from his head gingerly, watching lazily as Harvey reaches for the can of whipped cream and runs one hand calmingly along Mike’s side while he uses the other to press the nozzle to Mike’s lips. First he touches it to the indent of Mike’s lower lip, pressing in gently, but not enough for the dig of the pointed plastic to hurt. Mike lets Harvey part his lips; he breaths out through his mouth, against the nozzle, locking eyes with Harvey who only looks at him with admiration. He lifts it, then, and presses in with his index finger to leave a small dollop of the stuff right on top of Mike’s mouth, perched between his just slightly open lips. When Mike presses his tongue up he can taste it, sugary sweet, almost dangerously so on its own. Harvey watches with the smirk Mike’s grown impossibly used to, and so, as it’s evident Harvey isn’t going to eat it himself, Mike presses his tongue up into the whipped cream, opening his lips, and he pulls it into his mouth—slowly, gently, tentatively, and watching Harvey all the while.

There are traces if it on his lips, streaks of the sweet, white cream and he knows—he’d lick the rest off, but he’s hoping, more than a little, that Harvey will beat him to it. The glint in Harvey’s eyes tells him it’s only a matter of seconds and he’s right; Harvey’s back on him in less than that, lunging at his mouth with all the ferocity of a cooped up tiger, one of those increasingly less rare moments when Harvey lets his passion slip through his veil of perfect composition just enough, when he growls softly into Mike’s mouth, one of those moments Mike could drown in if given the chance.

Harvey still tastes like sugar but also like the tiny beads of sweat dripping down his upper lip, and more than anything he tastes like himself and Mike loves that taste more than anything else. Harvey’s hands are on Mike’s hips, pressing into Mike’s hipbones with his thumbs. He’s still hard but not so much that it hurts, and he thinks if he had to he could lie here and let Harvey play with him forever.

Still, to spend forever without being touched sounds a little unbearable and when he feels the hard line of Harvey’s erection pressing against his thigh Mike decides that this forever has surely come soon enough. Mike shifts his hips and even through two layers of clothing and one barely there layer of lace, Harvey’s arousal is palpable and all Mike can think is _oh my God I made that happen_ and then _oh my God he’s so close_ and _oh God this is so hot_ and _oh Jesus fuck me now._ Harvey’s thumbs toy at the sides of Mike’s panties and the fabric shifts deliciously against his cock.

Harvey slips his thumbs into the underwear and pulls it down just a little, not enough to free Mike’s cock but enough for him to feel the air against the base. It’s the worst kind of tease but it feels so damn good; Mike indulges himself for a moment and he rocks his hips lightly against the lace, just a few times. It feels good but it’s not enough; it doesn’t feel like Harvey and right now, Harvey is all Mike wants. “Why the hell,” he gasps, “are you still dressed?”

“You call this dressed?” Harvey smirks, grabbing Mike’s ass, and Mike just groans. “Honestly Mike, I know you’re not a real lawyer but surely you recognize dress codes by now.” Nevertheless, he brings a hand to his crotch to undo his button and zipper of his pants.

“Yeah, I’d like to see you come to work like this.” A tiny grin plays across Mike’s lips as he trails a finger down Harvey’s navel and then makes a grab for his pants to get them down.

“Mm, fine, fine,” Harvey mumbles, kissing Mike just to shut him up, pushing Mike’s lips apart with his own. Mike just slips his eyes shut and groans softly, arching his chest up closer to Harvey, a hand coming up instinctively to his other nipples to wipe the rest of the whipped cream away. Harvey threads his fingers through his belt loops and shoves his pants and briefs down simultaneously, eagerly, just as far around his thighs as he can get them when he’s straddling Mike the way he is.

Mike’s eyes open and flicker down, and suddenly his kiss surges and he’s reaching up to grab Harvey’s hips and thrusting up, pressing Harvey’s exposed, flushed and hard cock against his own barely concealed arousal. Mike doesn’t want to look at himself but he can’t help it; he wants to look at Harvey and right now as his eyes find their way between both their bodies he’s looking, not shamelessly, at the way his own dick pushes out into the lace, how hard and slick he is already, how every brush of Harvey’s cock against him makes him twitch and leak unabashedly. He grinds against Harvey, running his hands over Harvey’s neck and shoulders and through the back of Harvey’s hair as he groans against Harvey’s lips. Harvey’s breaths come out just as loud, little moans pressing up through the back of his throat as he splays his hands over the plane of Mike’s stomach and then as he moves them to wrap his arms around Mike’s waist—Mike presses up into that, too, because Harvey’s arms are warm and strong and he’s so impossibly needy—and with a grunt Harvey rolls them both over, landing on his back with Mike straddling him, now, kissing Harvey into the pillows and caressing Harvey’s temples with nimble, eager fingertips. Almost as an afterthought Harvey kicks the rest of his clothing off onto the floor.

Harvey’s hands come to rest on Mike’s hips, toying with the sides of the lingerie, slipping his hands underneath to rest flat against the sides of Mike’s thighs. His hands come around to Mike’s ass, sliding his thumbs over Mike’s cheeks, and his touch sears with heat, intimacy, the sweet burn of touching someone, of having someone touch you. Mike doesn’t think he’ll ever grow weary of the sheer excitement of it. Harvey’s hands against him feel like something entirely different, even when they’ve become so comfortable, so familiar.

His knuckles are warm, his fingers are focused as he kneads Mike’s ass and thighs. The way he looks up at Mike is heart-stopping, so full of admiration and appreciation that Mike is stuck between being horrified to ruin that feeling and believing that nothing he could do would ever stop Harvey loving him.

His lips move to Harvey’s jaw and then to his neck, and as Mike indulges himself in the feeling of being so close to Harvey in such a way it’s as if he can’t stop peppering Harvey’s face and neck with kisses; Harvey lies there, relaxed and just as indulgent, groaning softly at the constant press and brush of Mike’s mouth against his skin.

Harvey’s skin is warm and soft and, Mike thinks without enough shame or thought to be embarrassed, absolutely perfect; he presses kisses up Harvey’s cheekbone, and then against the two moles on his brow, and then to Harvey’s forehead, his breath ghosting against the gentle creases in Harvey’s skin. Mike pauses, there, and he can feel Harvey’s breathing against his neck; he can feel with every fiber of his being Harvey’s presence underneath him, magnetic and incandescent and so, so new in this moment of clarity.

“Harvey,” Mike mutters, his lips still brushing against the hot skin of Harvey’s forehead. Harvey nods almost imperceptibly and Mike breaths slowly. “I think I love you.” He bows his head, his lips pressing into the space above Harvey’s nose just to rest there, his nose pressed, squished and intimate, against Harvey’s forehead. It isn’t the first time he’s said it, Mike is sure; it can’t be. Running through his memory, he skips through a million moments where he just doesn’t know. He can feel it against his jaw when Harvey blinks; Harvey’s small intake of breath reverberates throughout Mike’s body.

It crosses Mike’s mind that it never really needed to be said, and he can live with that, he thinks.

Harvey’s chuckle is breathy as he grabs Mike’s ass in the most obscene of ways and he says, “You’re just figuring that out now?” Mike, arching his back and inhaling sharply against Harvey’s forehead, doesn’t know at first whether he should find it endearing or offensive, but Harvey’s tiny, admiration-fueled grin tells Mike that he should see it as the former, if he wasn’t already.

He grins, himself, and buries his face in Harvey’s neck; he knows he’s a sap, he knows he’s hopeless but he doesn’t care, not now, not with Harvey. One of Harvey’s hands comes up to tangle in Mike’s hair, fingertips rubbing his head gently, and Harvey presses his mouth against Mike’s temple.

“Does that mean,” Harvey mutters, pressing a kiss into Mike’s hair, “that I have free reign in bed?”

And Mike just smiles. “Do you even have to ask that anymore?”

“Mm, let me get the lube,” Harvey says, and Mike moves off of him gingerly, half-lying on his side. Harvey’s lips follow him, a hand on Mike’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss into the crook of his neck. He pauses, like he’s hesitating, but Mike knows that can’t be true. Harvey’s never been one to hesitate, but as he speaks his voice is low, steady in a way that only comes from trying hard to keep it from wavering. “I love you too, Mike.” His words unfold almost like a flower, blooming quietly from the soft petals of his lips and Mike is sure his own gasp is audible; it isn’t the first time, it can’t and it shouldn’t be the first, but something in Mike’s chest tells him it’s different. It isn’t shocking, nothing Harvey does is shocking but everything is new, unexpected. Mike is stuck somewhere in the middle of being paralyzed and being seconds away from devouring Harvey, inch by inch of his luscious skin, his lascivious voice, that honey-sweet rumble that calls Mike beautiful and takes him apart and tells him he _loves_ him—“God,” Harvey breathes, mouthing fervently at the warm skin at the crook of Mike’s neck, “I love you so fucking much.”

“Oh God, Harvey;” Mike’s mouth opens around a quiet moan that shudders in his throat, and before he knows it he’s on his back, tangling his hand in the back of Harvey’s hair, his other hair skirting across Harvey’s hip. He presses in, seeking the impossible warmth under Harvey’s skin. Mike misses Harvey when he gets up, brushing his lips across Mike’s clavicle before he’s gone; when he’s back a second later with the bottle of lube from the drawer, Mike has never wanted him so badly.

“Come here,” Harvey says, somewhere between a whisper and a moan, pulling Mike back on top of him with his hands, guiding and firm, on Mike’s hips; Mike can only gasp a soft, “ _Oh,_ ” as he lets himself be handled, as he flattens his hands on Harvey’s chest, straddling Harvey’s hips with an arch of his back and a desire to please which sparks throughout his body, sets his nerves alight. His muscles are stretches taut as Harvey thumbs over them appreciatively; his stomach shifts as Harvey’s hand comes away to pop the cap off the lube.

He coats his fingers generously; Mike knows Harvey would rather overindulge him than hurt him, any day. The liquid drips down his fingers and he shifts them, breathing slowly, tossing the lube off to the side. It lands on the mattress.

With one hand Harvey reaches up, cups the back of Mike’s neck and massages him there, softly; Mike bows his head, leaning into the firm yet gentle press of Harvey’s fingers. Harvey then slips his slick fingers up between Mike’s thighs—Mike widens his legs for him, as much as he can, panting at the contrast of the heat radiating from Harvey’s skin and the cool wetness of the lube dripping down his hand and Mike’s thighs—and underneath the lace of his panties, sliding, slippery, along his crack before circling Mike’s hole, pressing and touching but not quite slipping inside. Harvey massages him, thumbing along his carotid with the hand on Mike’s neck, making Mike tip his head back at the ticklish yet calming touch, the hand between Mike’s legs relaxing the taut muscle of his hole, having Mike twitch and exhale slowly every second Harvey rubs wetly as his delicate flesh.

Again Mike catches a glimpse of his own arousal, straining and obvious as lube drips down his thighs and pre-cum gathers at his tip. It isn’t painful, not yet, but it’s almost painful to see; part of him can’t believe he can be taken apart so easily, part of him expects nothing less of Harvey Specter.

Harvey opens him slowly, but Mike doesn’t complain; he relaxes into Harvey’s all-encompassing touch, letting Harvey prod at him, taking the opportunity to rest against Harvey’s body, pressing his cheek against Harvey’s so that he can feel every little sigh and sound Harvey makes and so Harvey can feel every sound he makes; tiny moans are bubbling up in his throat and his breath stutters as he rocks against Harvey’s hand, pressing his face against Harvey’s and trailing lazy yet passionate kisses along Harvey’s jaw. He barely notices when Harvey’s fingers enter him—Harvey’s good at that, at taking Mike apart gradually, at encompassing Mike’s world completely so that everything is Harvey and all Mike knows is that Harvey is against him, not where or how or ever why.

There are a million reasons why, and each one resonates on its own wavelength through Mike’s soft gasp of Harvey’s name; Harvey’s fingers are twisting up, so sure in their carnal knowledge of Mike’s body and Mike can only gasp in a sort of awe-struck reverence, “Harvey, Harvey, oh my God, _fuck me._ ” His cock is pressing heavily into the lace of his underwear; his thighs are burning but all it feels is good. For a moment he fucks himself on Harvey’s fingers, exhaling trails of swears. Harvey’s thumb is snug against his balls, his pinky curls into Mike’s thigh, and his other three fingers are sliding in and out of him enthusiastically; when Harvey pulls his hand out, his nails catching on Mike’s lace momentarily, Mike presses a sloppy, rushed kiss to Harvey’s focused, parted lips before sitting up again, cracking his shoulders, stretching his muscles. Every movement he makes resonates throughout every nerve in his body; every movement Harvey makes strikes him head on, on some plane of existence that isn’t quite physical and isn’t anything else Mike has ever known.

Harvey stretches, too, folding his arms behind his head, and Mike trails his fingertips down the enthralling shift of Harvey’s muscle underneath the skin of his chest, pausing to skirt across Harvey’s nipples almost instinctively. Harvey reaches for the condom on the bedside table and Mike just gazes down at him, almost losing himself in the recurring revelation that Harvey is _his._ It’s a little amazing, to Mike, a little mind-blowing—like being in bed with an angel or something so suave and devious as the devil, something a lot more naughty than the former and a lot more trustworthy than the latter. A man who has talent and knows how to use it, who is confident and smug in a way that only makes him that much more attractive, who is ever so slightly older and experienced in ways Mike could only dream of; who is awe-inspiring as he is awe-struck, and who treasures Mike in ways Mike has craved his entire life. Mike finds he doesn’t need figures of speech to describe Harvey, not anymore; not when Harvey is breathtaking enough in himself.

Mike watches as Harvey rips the top of the packet then, for a moment, locking eyes with Mike, he touches himself, his thumb sliding across his balls, panting lightly at the feeling of his own hand. He grips himself at the base, sliding the latex over the pre-cum slick head of his cock and down his reddened, flushed member; Mike reaches out, brushing his own hand against Harvey’s, pinching his head between his thumb and forefingers and rolling the latex of the condom between his digits. He retrieves the lube, inches away on the mattress, dribbling it intently down Harvey’s erection, taking Harvey’s cock in hand completely to jerk him gently. It elicits soft sounds from Harvey’s lips, a growl of, “Fuck, _Mike…_ ” and then Mike is grasping him much more firmly, guiding him into his stretched and dripping hole, and Harvey reaches behind Mike to pull back his panties—Mike bites his lip as he lowers himself down onto Harvey’s arousal.

Mike is penetrated slowly, opening up as he takes Harvey in. The press of Harvey’s cock tears a bubbling moan from Mike’s throat, a shudder throughout his body as he sinks down and the sensation of Harvey between his legs overwhelms him.

“Oh, fuck, Harvey,” he whimpers, stretching out and backward, spreading his thighs further as he takes Harvey’s cock in completely. “Jesus, that’s good.” Another moan is torn from his throat and he chokes on it, indulging in the impossibly good stretch and fill of Harvey’s dick, rocking his hips gently just to feel Harvey inside him. “Oh, shit,” he chokes, shifting his hips to angle Harvey’s dick against his prostate. “ _Harvey._ ”

Harvey rocks up, hips stuttering, fingertips digging into Mike’s hips and with every swift thrust or drawn out, tantalizing rock of Harvey’s hips, Mike writhes and gasps and tips his head back to try to swallow down another low, shaky, irrepressible whimper. His balls are heavy and hot, slipping out from where his panties are stretched for Harvey’s cock, smeared with lube which cools in the air. Every bit of him begs to be touched and he slips his eyes shut as he rides Harvey, taking in the overwhelming sensation and nothing else. He can feel Harvey’s hipbones pressing into his thighs and he fixates on that, on the little, accidental touched that just being Harvey so much closer.

He can’t go long without looking at Harvey, savoring with all of his senses the gorgeous, near perfect man underneath him (his feelings on this tend to fluctuate wildly, but right now in Mike’s mind, Harvey is flawless); Harvey’s eyes are half-lidded, a pink tinge taking over his face as his eyes flicker between Mike’s face and his blatant arousal which grows slightly redder even under the bright colored panties, raking his body appreciatively every time. He bites his lip in a look of the purest concentration, fingers digging into Mike’s skin as he fucks up into him; his cock, inside of him, is twitching and wet and the rest of him echoes it perfectly. His hair is mussed, sweat gathering along his hairline. His eyelids begin to flutter, and with his panting, low breaths he breathes out swears and praises and Mike’s name.

Mike wonders what he must look like if Harvey looks like this, as he rides Harvey unabashedly, lube dripping down his thighs, pre-cum slipping out of the head of his cock to gather in and dampen the lace of his panties. He rubs himself through the lace, rubbing the heel of his palm against his balls, gripping himself through the fabric with his fingers. He wonders, as he whimpers quietly and rocks against his own hand, if his face is as flushed as the rest of his body looks. Either way, he decides, there’s no way he looks as hot as Harvey does.

He watches, enthralled, the rise and fall of Harvey’s chest, the shift of his muscles under his skin as he moves against Mike. Harvey pumps his cock inside of Mike with increasing intensity and Mike fondles himself almost instinctively, slipping the tip of his cock out of the top hem of his panties, rubbing it with his thumb and smearing pre-cum around it. His own fingers send comfortable shocks through his spine; addictive spikes of pleasure ricochet in his hips as he grips himself through his panties and rubs himself gently with his thumb.

Harvey curls his fingers into Mike’s waist, pulling Mike down to kiss him. As their mouths meet Harvey’s hips jolt, echoing the electricity in their lips, holding Mike against him as he rocks up into him, slick and hot and dripping. Mike is caught off guard when Harvey flips them over again but he goes willingly, flopping back against the mattress as Harvey spreads Mike’s legs and lifts his knees, fucking into him earnestly, his lips falling open in a quiet, focused ecstasy as he pounds into Mike’s hips. Mike’s arms are splayed out on his either side, his neck is stretches back and the head of his cock is peeking out of his panties; he’s stretched out and submissive and his nerves are on fire.

His mouth is open, tongue darting out to lick over his own lips shakily as he lets himself be shaken and rocked and fucked out, as he and Harvey move against that mattress like the waves or the wild winds or maybe even a pendulum, a sloppy back and forth motion that grows more erratic by the second.

Mike lies back, gladly letting Harvey do all the work as he just relaxes and takes in the feeling, reaching down between his legs again and pulling his cock out from his panties, jerking himself in earnest as Harvey moves on top of him, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He leans up into it as he wipes some of the lube from his thighs to slick himself up. His hand moves smoothly, rapidly on his cock and he knows he’s close. He rocks up into his hand and into the beautifully all-encompassing feeling of Harvey inside him, the muscles of his legs shifting under the touch of Harvey’s hands.

Mike doesn’t come until Harvey lays a hand over his own, moving with Mike’s steady motion of stroking himself. Mike’s fingers are wrapped around the sensitive flesh of his dick; Harvey’s fingers are wrapped around Mike’s fingers. Before Harvey can really touch him he’s spurting over both their hands, spurred by the sheer closeness of Harvey’s hand, cum dripping between their fingers, onto Mike’s stomach and into his navel. He opens his mouth around a silent moan, eyes squinting and locked on Harvey as Mike rides out his climax with Harvey kissing his temples and touching his hips and coming undone inside of him.

Mike’s lips are tired and possible a little bruised but when Harvey kisses them he can’t help but kiss back, bringing his hands enthusiastically to the sides of Harvey’s head, thumbs rubbing softly over his temples, fingertips brushing through his hair. Harvey radiates a million feelings and more—heat, love, a striking sort of happiness that penetrates Mike to his core. Harvey is never more enthusiastic, more animate, than when they’re in bed together, never more fervid than when he’s lying with Mike on lazy nights or rough nights or any nights at all.

Mike doesn’t know why; maybe he reminds Harvey of himself, maybe he’s like the little brother Harvey’s always wanted or maybe the lover Harvey’s always dreamed about. All he knows is that it’s absolutely astonishing, and when Harvey layers Mike’s jaw in kisses and buries his nose in Mike’s neck, Mike’s chest swells with something that feels a little like space and a little like heaven.

Harvey’s breath is warm against Mike’s neck when he reaches his peak, his lips tremble softly and he mutters a soft, “Oh Jesus, Mike;” he presses sloppy, quick kisses to Mike’s neck and jaw when he releases inside him, panting as he spurts into Mike.

As he comes down from his euphoria Harvey kisses Mike leisurely, squeezing his eyes shut as he moves his lips against Mike’s; Mike kisses him back languidly but no less gladly.

Mike thinks he falls asleep shortly afterward, but it’s all really a blur; the comfortable warmth of Harvey’s skin melts into the pleasure of being kissed and all of that melts eventually into the stretching interval of a calm, comfortable sleep.

Mike doesn’t dream, but the thought of Harvey lingers in his mind as he snores gently away, fit snug against Harvey’s chest.

When he wakes the first thing he thinks is _oh my God did I fall asleep_ and then _where’s Harvey_ and then _am I going to be late to work,_ and as he comes out of his daze and gains his consciousness slowly he finds that yes, he did fall asleep, and he finds Harvey, between his legs, nibbling gently at his inner thigh, breath ghosting softly against his sore, tired skin. “Harvey,” he says, finding solace in the notion that he doesn’t have to get up, pulling the sheets tighter over his chest even though his bottom half is exposed. His lacy panties are gone, and if Mike is honest with himself he’s a little glad to be rid of them, after a night as long as that. Harvey trails kisses up his thigh, nose brushing softly against his balls. Mike sucks in a breath, tipping his head back with a soft groan.

“Morning, sunshine,” Harvey grins, running his hands up the sides of Mike’s thighs. “Planning on going to work?”

“Uh, yeah—I was going to.” Mike feels a little breathless; it’s hard to talk, to think, when Harvey’s mouth is so close to his dick.

“You’d rather go to work than spend the day at home with me?”

“No—nope,” Mike stutters, shaking his head, looking down at Harvey where he rubs Mike’s thighs gently and kisses Mike’s hipbones softly. “I was planning on spending the day at work with you.”

“That’s sweet,” Harvey says, smiling softly, pressing a kiss to the base of Mike’s cock and Mike’s thighs shudder gently, his stomach shifts as he tries to find a good position. He’s still sore, practically everywhere, especially between his legs. His hole is spent but his cock is gaining interest again as Harvey mouths over him, pinching his tip between his lips.

It doesn’t take long for him to bring Mike to full hardness; every little movement Mike makes aches and only serves to remind him of the previous night. Harvey grasps him firmly in his hand, swirling his tongue around Mike’s head and licking up pre-cum as its released, slowly as he’s tired and fucked out but consistently still. As listless as Mike is, the sparks of the wet, slippery touch of Harvey’s mouth jolt through him like electricity through cotton, creeping along his nerves and shocking him like an electric fence when they reach where they need to go. Harvey pops Mike’s head into his mouth, sucking lightly—it doesn’t take long, there, for Mike to reach his climax, spurting across Harvey’s lips, dribbling down Harvey’s chin, twitching in Harvey’s hand as Harvey milks him and he lies back and groans and lets himself be handled.

“There’s no way you’re going to work,” Harvey says as he climbs back up to lie next to Mike, pulling Mike into his chest to run his hands along Mike’s still-trembling skin.

“Yeah, good,” Mike sighs, leaning back against Harvey’s chest. “We still up for Dairy Queen?”

“You are such a child.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that.”

Harvey kisses away Mike’s obnoxious grin, and they do end up going to Dairy Queen, after all. Mike orders a regular old chocolate sundae, Harvey something with sprinkles and fudge and, Mike chuckles when he notices it, whipped cream. They eat together on a part bench, bickering comfortably into the day and talking about anything but work.


End file.
